Aftermath
by SVRaven
Summary: The tree that does not bend will break. R&A. Minor spoilage through 3x12 Take A Break
1. The Morning After

Adama woke at 0459 out of habit, just a minute before his alarm. He sat up on his elbow and reached across his bunk to turn it off. The last thing they needed was the harsh noise of a machine breaking the quiet state of the morning. He looked down at Roslin while she slept peacefully beside him.

He couldn't help but smile at how different she seemed when she was asleep, especially in contrast to how everything had been last night. Asleep, Laura was softer and unburdened by her role as President Roslin. Last night the burdens couldn't have been heavier, but for the moment he concentrated on the present before it was tainted.

Adama let himself settle back down onto his side and his free arm returned to its former place, draped over her Roslin's waist. He took in the calming scent of her hair that reminded him vaguely of lavender and basked in the warmth of having someone close to him again. It was so nice to feel warm. He leaned forward and placed the faintest kiss on Roslin's neck just behind her left ear.

He heard the steady pace of her breathing momentarily pause and felt her body tense. She was waking up.

-x-

Roslin had been lying in the sun, soaking in the heat, when she felt something brush against her neck that sent a tingle through her nerves and pulled her out of her dream. She woke to the feeling of Adama's chest against her back and his arm across her waist, warm and secure. It was so nice to feel warm. She wished she could stay in just this place at just this time for a moment longer before the complications of the universe intruded on her reverie.

"Good morning, Laura," said Adama in his characteristic rumble. His voice was another gentle comfort that kept the flood of troubles from the night before at bay. Roslin stretched and looked over her shoulder at him.

"Good morning, Bill," she said with a smile to cover up a flash of regret. Regret, with a certain degree of embarrassment, first at how she had fallen apart and then at how she had needed someone to pick her back up again.

"Feeling better?" he asked. His expression of concern transformed Roslin's smile to one of genuine pleasure.

"I'll manage." She held his gaze in the dim light and tried to make the time go slower, but there was no stopping the steady return to reality.

"Laura…"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to let me out of my rack?" He had slept with his back to the wall and allowed her the outside. She assumed it was so that if she had wanted to leave without waking him she could have done so.

"I don't suppose that I have much of a choice, do I?" Roslin kept him trapped just a few seconds longer and resisted the urge to giggle as she suddenly realized how their current situation might look to someone not privy to the fact that the night before had been anything but romantic.

Here was the President of the Twelve Colonies and the Admiral of the Fleet curled up together in his bed with all the look of being contented. She rather doubted anyone would have been surprised had anything of that sort happened and she wished it could be that simple. It might have been marginally less awkward waking up to just another complication as opposed to the aftermath of an emotional break down.

Roslin finally surrendered to the fact that she was going to have to drag herself from his soothing embrace and the warmth of the covers back into the world.

-x-

Adama watched Roslin get up with a certain measure of reluctance, but the troubles of the Fleet waited for no one and especially not for them. Once she was free of the confines of his rack, she took off his jacket, the jacket that he had draped over her shoulders the night before when her sobbing had turned into shivering and he had done everything in his power that was appropriate to comfort her.

Now that was a thought…everything appropriate. He could think of a few not so appropriate things that he could have done. Part of him rather wished he had, but he was too much a gentleman.

Adama took his jacket and buttoned it while Roslin searched for her glasses. She found them on the table in front the leather couch.

"There shouldn't be too many people up and about at this hour," he said. "Now might be the best time to escort you back to _Colonial One."_

"I agree," she said. She paused to clean a lens and put her glasses on. Adama moved to open the hatch and offered her his arm.

-x-

Roslin hesitated when Adama offered his arm. She liked to think that she no longer needed his support, but she accepted it because, for the moment, it was the only comfort available to her. He guided her out of his quarters and they proceeded down the near empty corridors in silence. She had already begun to miss the feeling of his arms around her and his solid presence at her back.

She had no idea what would happen now. He had seen her at her most vulnerable and yet this morning when she looked at him there was no sense that she had been somehow diminished in his eyes. In fact she could have sworn she caught a flicker of something else entirely in his gaze, but now was most definitely the time to think about such things. Instead her mind decided to affix itself on her emotional collapse.


	2. The Long Night

So many things had just piled up, the cylon responsible for the attacks in the brig, Baltar's trial, the need to find Earth and the entire situation with Helo and Sharon and the baby. The baby had been the reason why she had gone to see Adama in the first place. After he had walked out on her attempt to explain several days ago, she had decided that it would be best to simply give him time. Last night, while she sat on his couch and Adama at his desk reviewing evidence for Baltar's trial, she had decided that time was up. He had preempted her explanation with a statement that cut through it all.

"I would have helped you Madam President," he said without looking up. "Despite what you may think about my past experience with Zak's death I could have handled the situation. You should have come to me, after everything—Do you have any idea what you've done to Helo and Sharon? How you undermined—" He had stopped himself, finally looked at her and waited for her to answer.

The expression on his face revealed the extent of her betrayal. All attempts at an answer refused to pass her lips. After he had waited for nearly minute he took off his glasses, shook his head. A moment later he got up from his desk and disappeared into the other room. Where words failed tears came freely. She stifled a sob and tried to regain control before he came back.

-x-

Adama had left the room in order to restrain himself. He wanted to yell for all the frustration and beg for an answer from her that didn't hurt, but he wouldn't, he didn't have the heart for it. If she would let it drop then he could too. It would be easier that way. No need for things to get messy.

He poured himself a short glass of Tyrol's moonshine and bolted it down before he returned to the main room. Roslin obviously hadn't heard him because she didn't bother looking up. She was too busy wiping away tears with her hands in a desperate effort to control them.

Even from the distance where he stood in silence he knew that she had been quite aware of the consequences of what she had done, to Helo and Sharon and most of all to him. Throughout Roslin's ordeal with cancer and the stress of the Presidency Adama had never seen her cry like this or even suspected that she had. It was because of him. He knew. He had pulled away and removed her last bastion of support, cut her adrift.

She still needed him.

That realization broke Adama out of his distant stance. He closed the gap between them. He only paused to grab his jacket off the back of his desk chair.

-x-

Roslin felt Adama wrap his jacket around her shoulders and she instinctively pulled it tight around her body. Then she heard him sit down beside her. She wanted to tell him everything, how she was so sorry that she hadn't trusted him, how she wanted to go back to the few happy days they had spent on New Caprica, how she just wanted be human again without having to compartmentalize everything. She wanted to drop the Presidential mask again and be Laura once more.

When she thought she had calmed down enough Roslin looked over at him. She knew that she didn't have to explain. He reached up with one hand took off her glasses, set them on the table nearby where they wouldn't get in the way, and with his other wiped more of her tears away. It didn't do much good because now that she had started crying Roslin found it impossible to stop. She dropped her head again and tried once more to force the tears back.

-x-

Adama sat beside her and understood that for right now what she needed was his unquestioning support. He contemplated momentarily whether he would be crossing a boundary, but it was obvious to him that right now that it didn't matter. He reached out and gathered her into his arms. He could feel her renewed sobbing against his chest as it came in waves that would dissipate only to intensify again.

-x-

Roslin let herself sink into his embrace. His body heat stopped the shivering and his firm presence helped to calm her between resurgences of emotion. Even in the midst of it all part of her felt a certain liberation in just letting the barriers fall away again. It was pointless to resist any longer, better to let the current carry her along.

-x-

Adama held her until she had exhausted herself. When she finally pulled back he only partially released her.

"Stay here," he pronounced, as if she had the power to disagree. It was quite obvious that she wasn't in any condition to protest or leave. He got up and took the time to change his damp shirt, grab a towel since he didn't have any tissues nearby and poured a glass of Ambrosia.

"I don't have anything hot on hand, but this should help," said Adama when he returned. He pressed the glass into her hands and resumed his seat beside her, towel at the ready just in case.

-x-

"Thank you," she murmured. Roslin sipped the Ambrosia and was glad for something to soothe her worn out nerves even if she was likely to regret it later. She did her best to collect herself and took a few deep breaths. She used the towel to dry the last of her tears and rub some of the puffiness out of her eyes.

"You're staying here tonight," said Adama. "I insist." Roslin glanced over at him. Just what was he doing? "You're in no condition to be left by yourself." He had a point. Still, it didn't mean that she had to like it.

"Admiral, I—"

"Laura." His tone made it perfectly clear that he wasn't going to take anything but Yes Bill as an answer. Her sigh of defeat was enough of an answer. She didn't have to will or inclination to argue. Not now. She didn't argue when he put an arm around her and she suddenly felt very tired. She rested her head on his chest and found her eyes drooping.

-x-

Once she had fallen asleep, Adama had allowed himself a minute to just sit and think. He imagined that she was probably going to be supremely mortified by the time she recovered, but he was glad at least that this hadn't happened while she was alone. The Gods only knew how many times this had happened when she was alone, without anyone ever knowing.

Adama chided himself for forgetting just how lonely it could be sometimes to be the one in charge. Just what did had he thought he was doing? So she betrayed his trust and he was hurt. They should have discussed it like adults instead of what he did, cutting her off completely, letting the gap between them widen, and all the while trying to act as if everything was the same when clearly it couldn't be so long as he left her without his total support. He was glad that something had happened to make him realize the true extent of what he had been doing.

They needed each other. That much he understood. For the moment that was all he needed to understand. He spent another minute contemplating if he was crossing a boundary, but again surmised that right now was a special case and it didn't matter. They would just have to deal with it later. He wasn't going to let Roslin sleep alone on his couch and end up shivering again so the only other option was either for him to sleep on the couch as well or to carry her over to his rack. The couch was comfortable and wouldn't involve moving her, but it wasn't quite wide enough to ensure that one or both of them wouldn't end up falling off it onto the floor, a rather rude awakening that would be entirely unhelpful.

So Adama waited until he was certain, by her slow but steady breathing and lack of movement, that she was in fact asleep. Then he very carefully shifted to keep his one arm supporting her head and slipped the other under both of her legs to balance her weight while he stood. He stifled a grunt of effort and paused to be sure that she hadn't been disturbed enough to wake. She wasn't quite as heavy as he thought. He moved as quickly as he could, taking as much care as was necessary and stopped just beside his rack.

Now this was going to be tricky. If she woke up during the night and still wanted to leave he wasn't going to stop her. There was being insistent for her own good and then there was getting in Roslin's way. Besides it might be good if she did get up and leave in the middle of the night when there would be fewer people around to see her and less likelihood of a resurgence in the ever persistent rumors that they were involved in a relationship.

They had a relationship yes, as for being involved in it, he hadn't been so much lately, and as for it being romantic in nature, he could only imagine. There was simply too much in the way ever since they had left New Caprica for them to be having any sort of regular private meetings much less carry on a clandestine affair. Not that he would be _entirely_ opposed to such a thing, but at heart he was a practical man and it just wouldn't be practical right now.

He decided to very gently lay her down on the bunk with just enough room for him to squeeze in between her and the wall. He ignored the compromising position he found himself in while he carefully climbed over her and settled down onto his side with his back to the wall. He mused that this would probably make for one very awkward morning, but with nothing more than her comfort and warmth in mind he hugged her close and went to sleep.


	3. The Day After

Adama did his best to refocus his attention on the present while they stood outside the Raptor he had tasked to take her back to _Colonial One_. He had decided not only to escort her to the Raptor, but to fly her back himself, just in case she felt like talking, that, and to be sure that she was going to be okay. In utter truth he simply didn't want to leave her alone again, not now, not later, not ever. He disengaged his arm and waited for her to board the Raptor.

-x-

Roslin didn't realize where they were until they stopped walking. She had been so wrapped up in reliving her moment of weakness that the entire trip down the corridors had gone by in a blur. She looked around to find that, thankfully, the hangar deck was relatively empty. Chief Tyrol and only a few other deckhands were there on the early shift. They would keep quiet and even if they were inclined to gossip Tyrol would keep them quiet. Satisfied that everything was well, she stepped up into the Raptor and took the ECO seat.

When Adama climbed into the Raptor and took the pilot's seat Roslin was tempted to object, but deep down, she was grateful for a little more time alone with the Admiral. It would give her a chance to think of something to say. Halfway through the relatively short trip to _Colonial One_ she moved up and settled into the co-pilot's seat. When she got up the nerve, she cast a sidelong glance at him.

He was watching one of the readouts and kept his attention pointedly anywhere but on her. Roslin thought for a second that he must be uncomfortable with the silence, but then she caught on; he was giving her space, doing his very best not to pry. Ever the gentleman, well, at least most of the time.

Within minutes he had gone through the docking procedures and it was time to disembark. She was the first to stand up.

"I appreciate your hospitality, Admiral," she said in an attempt of her own to regain some measure of distance. _I'm going to be fine._

-x-

"Anytime," he replied. _I promise I won't do this to you again._ Adama got up before she reached the doorway. It was now or never. "Laura—" She stopped.

"Yes, Admiral?" He approached Roslin and out of the corner of his eye caught sight of an anxious, but respectful, Tory waiting in front of the doorway just out of earshot. Adama leaned in toward Roslin with his back toward Tory to be sure that what he said was kept private.

"No one is immune to stress," he said, "but not everyone has to deal with it alone." _Trust me._ His gaze finally met hers. A small voice in the back of his mind couldn't help saying that she had the most beautiful eyes. He ignored the voice. "If you want to talk, about anything, don't hesitate to call." _I will always be there for you. _He stepped back and offered her a salute.

"Have a good day, Madam President." He had seen a flash of uncertainty or gratitude, he couldn't tell which, just before the Presidential mask slid back into place.

-x-

"Thank you, Admiral," she said with a nod. Roslin did her best to resist the urge to stay on the Raptor. She fell in step with Tory a moment later while they headed for the upper decks and her office. She was vaguely disappointed to be back on _Colonial One._ It didn't quite feel as much like home as it did before. Tory didn't let her stew for very long, however.

"We were starting to get worried over here, Madam President," said Tory. Roslin could detect a faint trace of admonition in her assistant's voice.

"The Admiral and I were reviewing evidence for Baltar's trial and we lost track of the time," she replied. It wasn't a blatant lie. She was telling was the truth, more or less. "By the time we noticed the clock I thought it would be, unnecessarily rude, to call at such a late hour."

"No hour is too late for your office Madam President, you know that," countered Tory. Her point made, Tory dove into a report on the day's crises. Roslin did her best to pay attention, but the thought of being back aboard _Galactica_, in Adama's quarters, tucked away from the harshness of the universe had the curious effect of distracting her. It was going to be a long day.

-x-

Adama left _Colonial_ _One_ feeling uncertain if she was really going to be okay, but she seemed it. At the moment, seeming would have to do. He had always secretly suspected that she was a lot more resilient than anyone gave her credit for, but now he wondered if she was just a better liar. She hadn't given him the impression that she was the type to be as emotional as he was prone to being. He would have been embarrassed to say that Roslin was generally capable of a lot more self control, but now he'd seen the price of that self control. He had always been able to bend under pressure without utterly falling apart. Roslin was different, and now he remembered the truth of the advice he'd tried to give Saul once, it was one thing to push people, it was another to break them.

Now that he knew what to look for, Adama was determined not to let any future disagreements get out of hand. It would mean a bit more of that precious self control on his end, but it was a smaller price for him to pay. They had been through too much and the Fleet needed them both too much for him to allow anything less than a stable working relationship between the Admiral and President. A stable relationship of any kind had a definite appeal. He pushed the idea aside and as he returned to _Galactica_ he hoped that now Roslin might really, wholeheartedly, trust him. Either way, it was going to be a very long day.


	4. The Long Day

"...The _Faru Sadin_ has reported the discovery of further structural damage from the trip through the nebula," reported Tory. "A suggestion has been made by her captain that the ship be stripped. The update on the survivor count puts the new number at—Madam President, are you even listening?" Roslin mentally shook herself and refocused on her attention.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "You were saying?" Roslin sat at her desk listening to what she hoped was the end of Tory's report. She hadn't heard a single thing her assistant had said in the past ten minutes.

"The _Faru Sadin_ may need to be stripped and here's the update for the survivor count," repeated Tory with a thinly disguised attempt to cover up her annoyance. She handed the slip with the updated head count to Roslin and stood in front of the desk waiting for an answer.

"Have the _Galactica_ send one of their engineers to assess the _Sadin_,and tell them to repair or salvage whatever they can." Roslin glanced down at the slip in her hand. 41,387. Despite births every so often, the number kept going down. 50,298 had seemed a tragically small number at the time of the attacks, but now it was almost unimaginably high. She was getting distracted again. Roslin made another effort to concentrate.

"If that will be all, Tory," she said. "I think I need a few minutes alone."

"Of course, Madam President." Tory nodded and left the room.

Roslin took a moment to change the number on the white board to reflect the update before she settled back into her chair. She had spent the entire walk back to her office thinking about Bill Adama hugging her. She didn't realize how much she missed having someone until what little physical contact she'd had with Bill was gone. She thought about how nice it would be to have someone to hold her again… _Oh, get a grip woman. You are the President of the Twelve Colonies, not a love sick school girl. You were not dependant on Richard Adar, you are not going to be dependant on William Adama. _

"Back to work," she sighed. Roslin called Tory back in and kept her attention focused with every last drop of will power she had.

-x-

"Bill, you okay?" Adama reached up and pulled off his glasses in response to Tigh's query.

"I'm fine," he replied. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers and put his glasses back on. After he had returned to _Galactica_ he had taken the time to shower and put on a fresh uniform before making his way to CIC. Now he was staring at the sitrep for the night shift. It was completely routine, completely boring, and he was completely distracted.

Adama glanced up at his XO. Saul raised an eyebrow and his expression said plainly that he knew something was up.

"I had a long night," he explained, "going over evidence for the trial, lost track of time." Adama was too preoccupied to even care if Saul bought the excuse.

He had been fine until he'd returned to his quarters. A wayward glance at his rack and he had already started missing Laura's presence in the room with him. He missed the way colors seemed to be warmer, the faint smell of lavender, the way everything around her seem somehow more, vivid—

"Sir?" Adama grunted and looked up. "The President's office is requesting an engineer to be sent to the _Faru Sadin_," said Tigh. "The captain reported further structural damage and wants an assessment for repairs or salvage."

"Send over a team with Laird," replied Adama. "Tell them to do everything they can to repair the _Sadin_. I don't want it stripped." The _Faru Sadin_ had passed initial post-nebula inspection, but the last few jumps must have rattled it. Still, Kat had died to save the _Sadin_; he didn't want it turned into scrap and spare parts if it could be helped.

Adama realized in short order that he wasn't going to get anything useful done if he was going to be sidetracked all day. Rather than be in the way in CIC, where apparently nothing of note was likely to happen, he decided to leave and clear his head. He told Tigh that he'd be in his quarters if anyone needed him and left without further explanation. Saul would contact him if anything significant happened that required his attention. Adama took the roundabout way toward his quarters. He walked through as much corridor as possible, just, thinking. Most of the thinking was about Laura—_No. President of the Twelve Colonies, don't forget that Bill, she's the President. You've been through one failed marriage already you don't need to be falling for someone else, yet again. She's the President for frak's sake, the President. _

The mantra "she's the President" had worked well enough in the past, but on New Caprica he had allowed himself to see her as someone other than the President. In those days the mantra hadn't even entered his mind. Many other things had instead. Now "she's the President" had, after initially careful avoidance and a few months of restored familiarity, lost its effect. He was going to have to spend some time thinking of something new.


	5. The Meeting After

Adama had taken to pacing in his quarters, doing his very best to reason out why it would be impractical—no impossible, to even consider a relationship with Roslin now. Maybe in the past, on New Caprica. If he had known when their days there would have ended he might not have taken his sweet time. But then again, it had been hard enough to adjust to seeing her again after the Exodus without the added complication of anything more. There had been careful avoidance for the longest time, just to be sure that the professional boundaries had been fully restored and then he had slipped back into the half-aware familiarity that kept their close interactions harmless and, for the most part, completely innocent.

Why was he even considering it now? Adama quit pacing and shut down his line of thought through sheer force of will. He had stopped in front of his bookcase and as he scanned the titles his eyes came to rest on one in particular; _Dark Day._ He reached out and pulled the book from the shelf. He remembered when he'd given it to Roslin. It had been a week and a half since they'd met and he'd offered the book on the spur of the moment, as a gesture of trust, perhaps even friendship.

He remembered even more vividly the day she had given it back.

He had heard about her condition from Saul, but he hadn't discussed it with her. When she had given him back the book, that's when he'd known that it was serious. Now, in hindsight, he wondered what had happened later when she returned _Colonial One_, how she must have felt, knowing that time was running out. Adama ran his hand over the cover and when he went to leaf through the pages it fell open to a picture tucked inside, just before chapter 19.

Roslin must have been using it as a bookmark. He took it out and looked at it. The picture was of Roslin pausing during a press conference while Billy whispered something to her. In his hands Adama held two moments in time; a moment of informality between the President and her former aide, and the exact place where, over two years ago, Roslin had stopped reading. He knew the story so well that he could recall the last words she would have read and the parts of the story that she never got to. He tucked the picture back inside when he heard the familiar buzz of his phone. The book got set down somewhere on his desk while he reached for the phone.

"Adama here," he answered.

-x-

"Admiral," began Roslin from the relative comfort of her desk on _Colonial One_. "If you have the time I would like to arrange a meeting." Roslin smiled faintly when she heard him offer to take a Raptor over whenever she wanted to see him. He hadn't even bothered to ask what the meeting concerned and had been so prompt in his offer that she found it vaguely amusing.

"It's not urgent," she assured him. "As a matter of fact, why don't I spare you the trip away from _Galactica _and have the _Colonial One _dock. I'd take a shuttle, but I have a few things to finish up here and I'm afraid Tory won't let me out of her sight, or off of the ship, after what happened this morning." Adama said that he would be there shortly and waited for her to hang up.

With that taken care of, Roslin passed along the instructions to dock and told Tory to make sure that after the Admiral arrived they would not be disturbed. Her excuse for the meeting had been to discuss the delicate matter of what to do with the _Faru Sadin_. The final report had come back recommending the immediate evacuation and salvaging of the _Sadin_, but Adama had apparently insisted, again, that the engineering team attempt repairs. She knew that the _Sadin_ was the ship that Captain Katraine had saved and that was the reason why Adama was pressing the matter.

Besides that, however, Roslin had another reason to meet with the Admiral that, to her, was no less pressing. She just wanted to see him. The politician in her wanted this next meeting to be on her terms, on her ship instead of in his quarters… anywhere but his quarters. The rational part of her was careful to come up with a valid reason for him to have to come to _Colonial One _rather than meet him on _Galactica_. She did in fact have work to finish. She just wasn't finishing it right now. And she was afraid that Tory wouldn't let her off the ship, at least not without following her everywhere.

Roslin leaned back in her chair and took a minute to savor the peace and quiet. Another benefit to having this meeting on _Colonial One_ was that when she said that they weren't to be disturbed they wouldn't be. Even her calls would be routed to Tory and unless half the Fleet was on fire, Roslin wouldn't be interrupted.

By the time Adama came aboard Roslin's thoughts were anything, but peaceful. She did her best to stifle her continued mental wanderings. At the moment it was entertaining the thought of dinner— Time to focus.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice Admiral," she said. "Please, have a seat."

-x-

"It was no problem," he said. He approached with the most confident stride he could muster and sat down. His mind was still wrapped up in trying to determine the current status of their relationship and just what exactly he wanted the future status of it to be. As silence fell between them he had the sudden realization that this was going to become awkward quite rapidly, especially if he kept staring at her.

"I wanted to inform you that I am following the recommendation of the engineering team to strip and salvage the _Faru Sadin_," she said.

Before he could reply Tory burst into the office.

"Admiral, Madam President, the cylons have found us."


	6. The Long Battle

"Sitrep," demanded Adama the moment he crossed the threshold into CIC. Roslin had followed shortly behind out of a desire to be kept in the loop. It had been weeks since they had encountered the cylons.

"One of the bastards jumped right in and out before we could fire off a shot," answered Tigh. "Condition one has been set and the Fleet is commencing an emergency jump." Roslin saw the slight nod of approval from Adama. Tigh had stuck to procedure and if they were lucky they would escape the cylons without incid—

"Dradis contact!" called Gaeta. "Cylon baseship bearing one nine seven, carom zero eight four. They'll be within weapons range in, thirty three seconds."

"Hold our count. Launch Vipers," snapped Adama.

"Incoming ordinance!" Roslin felt the floor tremble beneath her feet. A second impact was enough to make her almost lose her footing, but Adama's hand on her shoulder kept her upright.

"Sir, four ships are reporting trouble with their FTL drives," said Dee. "One of them is taking fire." Roslin peered up at the Dradis console. The ship taking fire was the _Breton_, the other three still unable to jump were the _Chiron, Thera Sita _and the _Faru Sadin. _The last three had all been in the nebula for an extended period, more so that the other ships of the Fleet.

"Sir, the last impact was in the port hanger pod and _Colonial One _reports that they can't undock as a result. The hard seals have been locked down and the maglock system is unresponsive."

"Contact! Cylon baseship bearing zero three five, carom two two one. They're launching raiders." It was becoming impossible for Roslin to keep up with the various reports.

"Two ships have jumped away."

"Decompressions in the flight pod along frames twenty to thirty-six." Tigh started to shout orders to the DC teams.

"Bring us about," ordered Adama. "Dee, instruct our pilots to land in the starboard bay."

"Sir, the _Breton _has been destroyed." Adama glanced over at Roslin. His expression was one of worry and frustration. They were taking too many losses, but she knew he didn't want to abandon the_ Sadin_. She shook her head and he looked back that the Dradis console.

"Status on the _Sadin_?" he asked.

"The _Sadin _has spun up their drive, but it will be roughly a minute fifty seconds before they can jump."

"Order our Vipers home," said Adama. "Get us outta here."

"All Vipers aboard and decks secure."

"The last civilian ship is away," said Gaeta. "Commencing jump." The all too familiar shift into and out of the jump still made Roslin slightly queasy, but it was something she had gotten used to.

"Jump successful. All civilian ships accounted for," said Dee. All ships accounted for, but not all present, the subtle change in Dee's statement had made all the difference. Roslin tried to remember the crew and passenger capacity of the _Breton_, but her nearest guess was that they'd lost at least fifty. It was more likely in the hundreds. The number on her white board would be down significantly, again.

"Sir, the _Faru Sadin _is requesting assistance," continued Dee. "They say they're venting atmosphere."

"Launch the SAR Raptors to evac the _Sadin_," sighed Adama. "Colonel Tigh, you have the con."

"Aye sir, I have the con." Tigh immediately began to coordinate the SAR mission and follow up on the damage reports.

Adama braced himself on the command table and Roslin could see the adrenaline from the battle had worn off. His shoulders had dropped slightly and he titled his head in a way suggestive of a muscle spasm in his neck that he was trying to hide. He stood up straight again and turned to look at her.

"Madam President," he said, "since it might be awhile until the _Colonial One _can be undocked might I suggest you wait in my quarters?" She should have known it'd be impossible to avoid ending up there. _Oh, well._

-x-

"Sounds fine Admiral," she replied. Adama motioned for Roslin to lead the way and followed her out of CIC. While they walked down the corridors he resisted the urge to rub the tight spot in his neck away. Then there was the knot between his shoulders that made him walk a bit stiffer than normal. _I'm getting too old for the tough guy routine_, he thought wryly, but it was one of his many automatic reactions to stress.

When they arrived at his quarters he opened the hatch and ushered Roslin inside.

"It looks like we have no choice but to mark the_ Sadin_ for salvage now," said Adama while Roslin took a seat on the couch. The sight of her on the couch promptly reminded him of the night before and sitting beside her, holding her close. He pushed the memory aside.

"I know that you don't want the _Sadin _stripped because you're afraid it might somehow diminish the sacrifice of Captain Katraine," she began, "but I also know that I don't have to tell you that because the _Faru Sadin_ spent an extended period of time in the nebula that it poses a safety risk. I'm sorry, but—"

"But I know you're right," he finished. "Let's just leave it at that."

Adama made for the nearest container of alcohol because at the moment he needed something to help him relax. He poured two glasses of Ambrosia and on his way back he caught sight of _Dark Day _still sitting on his desk. He offered the second glass of Ambrosia to Roslin, she accepted it as gracefully as always and he went back to grab the book.

"I came across this earlier today," he said while he sat down on the couch at a comfortable distance. He set his glass down on the table and opened the book to spot with the picture. He pulled it out without looking at it.

"I thought you might want this back." She took the picture from him. Roslin smiled in bittersweet remembrance and had a sip of her drink.

"Thank you," she said. "I should finish that book someday. If I remember correctly it was just getting into the thick of things when I stopped."

"You're welcome to it anytime." Adama chose that moment to down the rest of his glass while he thought of what he was going to say next. During the attack "too impractical" had been the new mantra that had occurred to him, but between the knot in his neck and the Ambrosia, he found that it was a rather unsatisfactory excuse at best. Because he couldn't think of a new mantra, he knew that the long battle between his emotions and his reason was effectively over. Before the silence became too drawn out Adama looked at her directly.

"Laura," he said. "There's one other matter I think it's about time we discussed."


	7. The Night After

"I think that it's about time we lay all the cards on the table," said Adama.

"Okay…" He detected the marked hesitation from Roslin.

"You don't trust me," he said bluntly. "It's been over two and a half years and I'd like to think that we're friends, but you still don't trust me." Adama waited for the automatic response of "Don't be silly, of course I trust you," but it didn't come. He could see it in her eyes, she knew he was right.

Ever since they had reconciled on Kobol Adama had been under the impression that they were going to trust each other. He had let the election business slide on that count because they both knew he would have been against stealing the election, even if neither one of them had wanted Baltar for a President. His practical side had kept him from getting upset over that.

But Hera was a whole different order of magnitude. Roslin's actions had revealed the ultimate limit of her trust and that that limit apparently didn't extend very far at all.

Besides the need to carry on the bluff with the cylons as long as possible, Adama had pushed the situation with the Eye of Jupiter to the edge of launching nukes just to see if things had changed since New Caprica. When she had asked him "What are you doing?" the look on her face had revealed to him all he needed to know. Things hadn't changed.

Last night didn't really help, one way or the other. It could have simply been timing or his coarse behavior that led to him bearing witness to Roslin's emotional collapse, or it could have been that she did trust him to deal with that, of all things. As of today he still sided more with the former impression as opposed to the latter.

-x-

"I suppose you're right," she said. Roslin took another sip of her Ambrosia as an excuse to break eye contact. How could she explain to him that she couldn't afford to trust him as much as he wanted her to? How could she tell him that the President of the Colonies didn't have the luxury of total trust in anyone, especially in anyone as powerful as Admiral Adama?

It would make her vulnerable. To what she wasn't entirely sure, bad decisions, crippling emotional stress, a broken heart, it didn't matter. Whatever it was the President of the Colonies couldn't afford it. And she knew that ever since Kobol Adama had trusted her, explicitly and absolutely. For the longest time he had been the one who left himself vulnerable, even after that vulnerability had nearly killed him.

On New Caprica she had relaxed, but because of Hera she hadn't been able to let go completely. By then something had changed, she had been the one pursuing a closer relationship, but he had had a certain fundamental uneasiness about him whenever he was on New Caprica. She supposed it was his military training that had prevented him, until much later, from ever really believing that they were safe.

"So, what should we do about it?" she asked. She hoped he had an answer. _Because I certainly don't._

-x-

"I think we should be honest," he said. "You're capable, pragmatic and intelligent. I see no reason why I should doubt either your abilities as President or your integrity and even if it makes me gullible I will continue to trust you." _Time to get to the heart of it. _"So, Laura, what is it about me that you doubt?"

When it became obvious that she couldn't answer him, Adama stood up and got himself another drink. This time he opted for a glass of Caprican Gold because it was stronger than Ambrosia. He stayed in the other room for a minute to think and to give her time to do the same.

It probably wasn't necessarily him; he was beginning to see that. Maybe it was the Presidency getting in the way, but he had the impression they were past that point. If the President of the Colonies put too much faith in him people might die, bad decisions might be made, but that was a risk regardless.

This was more personal than how their decisions might affect the Fleet. If Laura Roslin put too much trust in William Adama it gave him the power to do something that might really hurt. _As if I haven't managed to do that once already_. Still, the reality of situation was that the potential for betrayal increased with the degree of trust she placed in him. So how was going to convince her to take a risk that was natural for him, but too difficult for her?

Besides that, how was he going to deal with the fact that his excuses had run out and that it was about time they discuss the current and future extent of their relationship. He was working on an answer. He set down his glass on his desk and then, his decision made, laid his wedding ring beside it.

-x-

Roslin finished her drink while Adama was in the other room and tried to think of an answer that didn't sound like an excuse. _What is it about me that you doubt? I don't know Bill, maybe it's not you. _President Roslin had an answer for everything, but Laura sat there with no answer for this. It was too much, too much to think about, too much to ask of her. When he came back she tried to think of something, anything.

"Bill, I—" Still nothing. "I don't know what to tell you." He only smiled.

"That's okay," he said. "I just want you to promise me something." He sat down next to her on the couch, closer this time. "When you're worried that I won't agree with a decision you make, or that I might be doing something reckless, or if I'm being over emotional or if there's some other problem, just tell me. You don't have to go into specifics, but tell me, okay?"

_Oh is that all? _Did he have any idea what he was asking? She searched his expression. He knew exactly what he was asking. He was asking for her to take a calculated risk, make a compromise between what she felt was necessary and what he wanted. She could compromise.

"I think I can do that," she said with a level of confidence she found a bit surprising. _I can do that. _

Adama leaned back against the couch and nodded his approval.

"One last thing." Now he was the one who broke eye contact. Not only that, but he seemed to be staring at a blank spot on the opposite wall with intense interest. "What should we do about us?"

"What do you mean?" She'd had an idea that they'd have to have this conversation eventually.

-x-

"We're both adults and I think we can survive my being direct." Adama kept his gaze firmly planted on the wall ahead of him. "You can call it a conflict of interest, impractical, too risky, impossible, whatever you like, but we have something that goes beyond professional."

"And there it is," said Roslin. Adama's gaze slid over to her.

"There it is." He felt a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. There it was. There was no going back now, but he was glad for that. It would keep him from backing out. He cared about her, more than he should, and he could deny it as much as he wanted but it wouldn't change that fact.

-x-

"I think," she said cautiously, "that you might be doing something reckless." Roslin saw him grin. _Yes, I catch on quick. _"We can't afford to Bill." The idea had its appeal, but it was impossible. His grin faded and he returned to staring at the opposite wall.

"So what are we going to do?" he asked. "Live in denial forever? Just, sacrifice everything for the good of the Fleet?" She wanted to say that yes, that was exactly what they were going to do, but the words wouldn't come. Roslin heard him sigh, but she knew better than to think that it was sigh of resignation or that he had even considered giving up.

-x-

"People have to have something to live for Laura." _Don't you know I've been living for you? _"Nothing complicated has to happen. We can keep it all very simple." Simple… was there any such word anymore? He hoped so.

"Just how do you propose to do that?" He could feel her gaze on him, but he didn't look at her yet. He needed to stay focused to get through this.

"We negotiate new boundaries," said Adama. "We don't let our feelings get anymore in the way than they have already. We decide that wherever things lead, even if it's to nowhere and for nothing, that that's fine. Simple." He waited for her response, but apparently she was having trouble again of coming up with something to say. He could take care of that. Perhaps all he needed to do to convince her was demonstrate just how effortless it could be.

-x-

"Do you remember Colonial Day?" Adama stood up and offered her his right hand. She looked up at him and caught a glint in his blue eyes that she thought was vaguely mischievous.

"What _are_ you doing?" she asked with a smile of her own. Roslin remembered Colonial Day quite well and could easily guess where this was leading.

"Care to dance?" he replied with a broadening smile. Roslin took his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

"Now?" _Of all the times…_What was he thinking?

"Trust me." Bill leaned forward and kissed her gently. Then he pulled back long enough to take a few careful steps backwards around the table in front of the couch and draw her out into the clear space in his quarters. He lightly took hold of her other hand and before Laura could focus on it he laid her left hand on his shoulder, and slipped his right arm across her back. Once they were sufficiently close he initiated a slow waltz.

"See? Simple." Laura looked at him and shook her head. She knew that she should have known better to set foot in Bill's quarters today. Then she closed her eyes and let him lead for awhile. _All right, you want to do this…then fine we'll see where this goes._ Laura decided to go along because he had been right about one thing at least; people needed something to live for. What did they have to live for, but the Fleet and Earth? Sometimes that was more a burden than a reason. The only other answer was to live for each other and wasn't that what they had been doing all along?

-x-

"When the _Colonial One _is able to leave you're going to go back to your ship," he continued in a low rumble. "But tomorrow we're having dinner and you're going to stay here. I'll handle Tory. That is, if the President approves?" She looked up at him and answered with a deliberate nod.

He paused their dance and was going to let her lead when he saw her glance at his left hand. She finally noticed that something had changed.

"You took off your ring," she said. Laura ran her fingers across the bare spot on his hand where his ring had been. He brought her attention back to him with another kiss. In the midst of the kiss he concluded that he was going to rather enjoy this. No more excuses borne out of a need for restraint, no more wondering what do to about how he felt and now they could finally be together in the present, for as long as it lasted. Complications would probably arise eventually that would put an end to what they had, but for right now it was still as simple as he made it sound.

"So I did."

* * *

Fin. For now. We'll see if a sequel comes to mind.

SVR


End file.
